


It Was Your Heart (On The Line)

by tommoandbambi (orphan_account)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, I wrote this in 30 minutes, Jealous Harry, M/M, Non-Smut, side!lilo, unedited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 06:03:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1255576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/tommoandbambi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Strangers from different places who fell in love with each other through silly messages.</p><p> </p><p>(Or Louis texts the wrong number and manages to keep a proper head on his shoulders, reckless abandon for others' hearts ensues).</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Was Your Heart (On The Line)

**Author's Note:**

> karukara made this lovely prompt, and I decided to twist it about and make it into a realistic (sort of) oops-wrong-number-fic. This is unedited and un-brit picked, but I wrote it in a span of thirty minutes and I'm kind of proud of it.

 "Go get his number," Niall says around a mouthful of greasy chips, gesturing wildly at the man that just walked away from their table.

Louis follows Niall's hands with his eyes, turning fully in his seat just to catch a glimpse of the lad that Niall's nattering on about. It's probably not the most subtle Louis' ever been about scoping out a bloke, but his philosophy on men is to either go hard or go home. Literally. The person of interest looks dangerously enough like a hybrid of Justin Timberlake, David Beckham, and massive labrador puppy. He's insanely cute while also being insanely buff and it's all just a tad too discerning. He seems nice enough, but also like the precise brand of Fit Guy that he always manages to make himself look like a bumbling fool in front of. He can't do this. He can't go and ask for someone's number after just a few seconds of conversation. Not if there aren't a few pints in him already. Louis's a firm believer in liquid courage, and as of now, he has none. So, he absolutely cannot ask for the guy's number.

  
"I can't go ask for his number," he tells Niall.

  
"The bloke just came up to us and asked you for salt, he was obviously doing a subtle ploy to suck your dick in the loo," Niall takes a bite of his hamburger, making ketchup drip down his chin in a massive, unattractive glob. Louis can't believe that this is the same guy that dated a Victoria's Secret model for a few months.

  
Louis tosses a napkin at him, "Or - and just hear me out on this, it might sound a bit crazy to you - he might have just needed some salt."

  
"Bullshit. There is seriously a mountain of salt right beside the soda fountain. The guy was looking for a conversation opener so that he could try and pull you."

  
Niall's actually right about half of what he said. There really is an overabundance of salt at the chippy, and the lad with biceps the size of a cantaloupe could've easily located some without having to walk all of the way to their table, which is conveniently nestled in the middle of the bloody restaurant, the bloke could've asked anyone for some salt, but instead he seemed to want to go far out of his own way for it. Perhaps it was because they did have a brief moment of eye contact at the till where Louis whipped out his best set of bedroom eyes. Or perhaps Niall is reading way too far into what just happened, and his over-investment in Louis' sex life is leaking over to Louis, himself. The entire situation is absurd.

Anyways, all of the speculation is entirely unnecessary. After last week when Louis woke up in some stranger's futon for the third night in a row with a pair of woman's underwear wrapped around his ankle, he swore off of meaningless sex. He's twenty-three now, and it's time for him to slow down and start looking for the man that'll give him the massive family and even more massive house that he's been wishing for ever since he was ten. It's time to lay off the pulling-five-lads-a-week lifestyle that he's been dwelling in ever since his first semester at Uni. As much as he hates to admit it; Louis is growing up and the chances that Peter Pan is going to come knock down his window and save him from adulthood are slimming by the second. He needs to find a boy -a nice, respectable one that preferably to doesn't slap him on the bum and call him 'Tommy' after a round of athletic sex before kicking him out to go through the bouts of a walk of shame- that has the hopes of being his soul mate.

"No," Louis turns around and faces Niall again, shaking his head with a firm set to his mouth to prove to Niall how not on board he is with the proceedings of this conversation. "I'm not meeting my soul mate over a packet of salt."

"Exactly, you're meeting tonight's shag over a packet of salt," Niall smiles, like what he said is the best possible outcome that could come from this. And to him it probably is, because Niall is still young and in Uni so he doesn't have to spare thought to finding a soul mate that appeases his mother as soon as possible.

"He's looking at you," Niall adds as he peers over Louis' shoulder with a smarmy grin.

He really doesn't want to do this, the lad was insanely fit, sure, but he just wasn't in the mood for screening a potential soulmate (shag, whatever) in a place where the tables are sticky and kids are screaming at their Mum's to go ask for a different toy with their kids' meals. But he also doesn't want Niall to think that Louis is too shy or scared to go chat up a lad that has melted honey for eyes. He has a reputation as The Fearless One to uphold, and he can't have Niall thinking that he is losing his luster in this world now that he's old.

"I'm gonna get his number," he tells Niall instead of finishing off his fish like how he planned to.

"Ask for some pepper," Niall called as Louis scoots out of the booth, and he makes sure to flip Niall off as discreetly as possible before beginning to walk towards the fit lad, who was eating alone by the window marked with a 'help wanted' sign.

The guy is pretty damn fit, Louis can't deny. With arms burly enough to harbor the promise of pressing Louis up against the wall while driving into him deliciously. Perhaps Louis can have one last one night stand. Have the fit guy double as his last hurrah for his former life of getting shitfaced every week and having a plethora of one night stands. He's going to pull this lad, Louis decides, pulling back his shoulders and narrowing his eyes at the guy that's currently taking a hearty gulp out of his drink, his thin lips pursed in a way that gives Louis a grand visual for what it'd be like to be on the receiving end of a blowie. Fuck it. He's going to pull this lad and put Niall and his shite jokes to rest.

  
He tries to move subtly, weaving through an insane cluster of tables and people toting styrofoam cups on large blue trays - narrowly missing a spare kid that was rocketing towards the PlayCenter - and almost approaches the man unnoticed until the chair that he pulls out across from him screeches in protest of being rubbed against the worn, wooden floor of the chippy. His brown eyes snap up and immediately flicker with recognition when he skims over Louis' face with his eyes, he's so unreal that for one second Louis forgets how to even breathe. Fit people like this are a hazard to Louis' safety and mental state.

"So you might've made a mistake," Louis says, sitting down on the red cushioned chair and folding his hands together on the table.

"Oh," a slow smile contorts on his sinful lips. "I did?"

"Yeah," Louis leans forward on the table slightly, ignoring the mystery substance on the table that was trying to plaster itself to his arm. "You see, I'm a rarity, a once in a life time opportunity, and I almost let you walk off without getting my number."

Louis mentally pats himself on the back as the guy let's out a low chuckle. "A rarity?"

"Yes," he nods seriously. Where is all this coming from? Since when was he this good at flirting while sober? "I'm, like, the rarest of jewels found in the treasure chest at the bottom of the sea. And you can't just take my salt without taking my number as well. It's, well.. An atrocity."

"Atrocity?"

"It is one, exactly, very much so."

The lad smiles again, and Louis wants to bask in it for forever. He's wearing a tight navy t-shirt with a fireman's emblem across his broad shoulders. His biceps are bloody massive, and Louis wants to spend hours licking every inch of his skin blissfully. He definitely has to pull this lad, or else he'll never forgive himself.

"M'not a fan of atrocities, so, my number?" he asks.

Louis nods, struggling to get his phone out of his back pocket before unlocking it and smiling smugly at the lad. He couldn't believe that this actually worked.

"Here," Louis hands him his phone. "You can type yours in for me."

The lad nods and takes the mobile carefully. He seems to be taking Louis' command with the utmost seriousness. It's actually really fucking adorable. He gives Louis his phone back and makes a move to reach into his back pocket, too. But Louis is already standing up and brushing his hands off on his trousers. The lad fish mouths at him cutely and Louis spares a quick smirk before walking slowly back to where Niall has started eating from Louis' plate at their table.

"What about your number?" The guy asks loudly, and Louis turns around. "Can I have it?"

"I'll text you," Louis waves his phone at him before sitting back down at his table and slapping Niall's hands away from his food.

"How'd it go?" Niall asks after swallowing some of Louis' soda.

"Let's just say that I'm practically the God of Wooing Fit Lads."

Niall nods enthusiastically, like thats the most accurate thing that Louis has said all day.

;;

He knows that second impressions are important, and it's probably not best to make one whilst drunk off his arse with only his phone and his mouth that suspiciously tastes like peanut butter to keep himself company. But his phone is there, easily accessible and begging for Louis to use it, and he's been trying to make an excuse to speak to Liam (also known as: the fit guy from the chippy. He saved the contact under the name Liam so Louis supposes that's what he wants to be called. Also, the name Liam just fits for his puppyish face) for the past two weeks, and the best thing he could come up with this far is to send him a text that he just bought a canister of salt to be properly prepared in case they ever run into each other again. And that's just not good enough. It's most definitely not his best work and he is ninety percent sure that it won't end up with him getting into Liam's pants. The fact that Louis has actually already bought the salt for the sole reason of chatting the guy up was already dumb enough, really. He wasted his sweets money by pulling that shit, seriously, what was he thinking?

But now he has a fuzzy mind and pink cheeks and his phone's brightness is up too high and just two hours ago he added two puppy dog emojis behind Liam's name because, dammit, that bloke really does resemble a puppy with his doey eyes and pouty lips and such.

So, he decides to text Liam against his better judgement.

'hii,' he typed, 'you shld rub grape jam on yur body ;) xxx'

He smiles at the delivered receipt for about two seconds before he realizes what he just did.

'Shit, t's nt as weird as it sounds. m jus drunk nd my mouth taste like peanut buttr' he sends quickly afterwards.

There, he thought hazily, it's alright now. His mouth truly does taste like peanut butter. Perhaps he shouldn't have let Niall force all of those fruity pink drinks down his throat before coercing him into taking body shots off of a forty year old woman that's getting married tomorrow. He locks his phone and smacks his lips together before promptly passing out.

;;

The sun hurts and his phone is making this annoying radar-like sound that won't fucking quit. He winces and shoves his deflated pillow that has a suspicious clear liquid on it -drool, lets just say it's drool - over his face and unleashes a loud groan from the back of his throat, hoping that Niall will hear him and come to his rescue with some Partamol and a glass of water. Maybe he'll even get under Louis' comforter and spare him a hangover cuddle.

Instead , Louis is graced with the harsh rapping of knuckles against his wall and the throaty Irish twang of, "Shut up, you cunt."

Close enough.

Louis smacks his lips together, wincing at how his mouth tastes like a horrid combination of peanut butter and morning breath. He slides his hand aimlessly over his mattress before finally making contact with his phone and snatching it up in the palm of his hand. It's still warm from where he has fallen asleep on it last night (chances of radiation be damned) and he winces at how bloody bright the display of his phone is as he presses the home button.

Fuck, he has a text message from Fit Liam. Liam doesn't even have Louis' number, and the only way he could've gotten it is if Louis texted him first. Double fuck, he thinks as he opens the thread to see that Louis did text him. He groans as he reads some random shit about jam and peanut butter. He's such an idiot, and now Liam knows it too. He'll never be able to shag him, now. Louis' throat releases a small whining sound as he reluctantly eyes over Liam's reply.

'Funny thing is, I am currently injecting some jam into danishes right now.' It reads.

'But it's strawberry jam :(,' another message follows.

Louis sighs in relief and scratches at the nape of his neck before groggily replying, 'jams be damned, i think the Queen said that once. i didn't know that firemen also withheld the ability to make danishes. you've been holding out on me, Mr. Payne.'

He has no idea where his comedic genius comes from. Some Greek god, or summat, probably.

'Oh,' a reply comes in before Louis can blink.

'Im not a firman.'

'.. Or Mr. Payne.'

'But I do have some killer firemen innuendos.'

"Fuck," Louis voices eloquently.

So Liam might have entered in the wrong number. Which, okay, it happens. It doesn't make the situation suck any less, though. He actually wanted something to happen with Liam. Not necessarily soulmate building or anything, just maybe a good shag and a nice follow up blowjob for closure. Maybe.

He looks back down at his phone. At least the stranger he messaged on accident is entertaining enough to make Louis, in his lonely and hungover state, be able to smile. Sure, he isn't quite making plans to meet Liam at a seedy club until they fall into one of their beds for an eventful night of shagging, but he does have a somewhat promising individual waiting for his reply. So he does the logical thing and texts the person back.

'firemen innuendos, you say? you've intrigued me.' - Niall lets out a choked off snore in the other room, giving Louis only a minor heart attack. He diverts his eyes up to the wall before looking back down, smiling - 'but be warned, i'm expecting high quality ones. not just the substandard "do you want to slide down my pole" bullshit. entertain me.'

'oh, mate, you're in for a treat.'

And that's how it begins. Louis spends the entire morning slightly hungover but still laughing at his new texting mate. The quirky puns that were hurled at him makes Louis forget about the fact that he lost his chance at his perfect last hurrah for one night stands.

;;

"You never texted me," Liam yells in his ear.

Louis can not get over how lucky he is. Just five minutes ago, he was leaning over the bar with his phone in one hand, having an enlightening conversation with his stranger about which ironically named fruity drink was the best. His stranger was adamantly backing Sex on the Beach while Louis is more of a Slippery Nipple fan, personally. Louis was just about to enact a digital tangent on his mate when a deliciously warm hand rested on the small of his back and he turned to see none other than Fireman Liam smiling at him earnestly, asking to dance. Louis said yes, of course, and now here they are. In the middle of a mosh pit with the bass thudding around them and enveloping them in some kind of hypnotic, grind-inducing trance that has Louis' leg slotted between Liam's. Their bodies are moving together as a unit, a drop of sweat rolling down the nape of Louis' neck. Liam's groin is pressed against his tightly, and it all just feels right. He clutches his hand into the thin fabric of Liam's shirt, looking into his brown eyes that are reflecting the strobe lights that are forming haloes around them and making them seem like they're a treasure. He forgets what Liam said to him for a moment, and he can't really be blamed because Liam is so fit and Louis is so drunk.

"You gave me the wrong number," Louis competes with the speakers in order to be heard.

Liam's face contorts to one of confusion, Louis sighs and leans in closer to Liam's neck and repeats himself. He decides to maintain his closeness even after he finishes talking because Liam smells really good and he can feel his taut stomach muscles through Liam's thin shirt. He slings an arm over Liam's broad shoulders, and stands so that he seems taller than he really is. He's staring straight into Liam's doe eyes and it's all electrifying. Louis couldn't have found a better Last One Night Stand if he combed to the very ends of the Earth.

  
"I did?" Liam's brows furrow worriedly. It's quite cute and a tad discerning.

  
"Yeah," Louis yells, a passing drunkard jostles him even closer to Liam's body, and for once he's not upset about people being rude. "You owe me an apology and maybe a handjob."

Liam's tilts his head back and laughs, "Classy." But he still takes Louis' hand and leads them through the din of dancers and sloshing drinks towards the exit.

  
Louis smirks proudly and grips his phone, firing off a quick text to his stranger, 'I think I'm shagging Liam tonight.'

  
'Have fun sliding down Mr. Payne's pole ;) x'.

'That. Was. Awful. I'm ashamed, but ta for now.'

☏

  
It's not until hours later when Louis finally learns his stranger's name. His name is Harry, and Louis is finally able to change the contact name from Stranger to a simple 'H' with a weird flamingo emoji, because he think it just fits.

  
☏

  
"You know," Louis says, pressing the phone closer to his ear. "I don't even know what you look like."

He needs to get out of bed and change soon, Niall is forcing him out to a pub later on tonight because he's been 'spending too much bloody time on the mobile lately.'

"Barney," was Harry's automatic reply.

  
"Stinson?"

"No," - Harry lets out one of his seal-like-bark-laugh things that Louis has began to be quite fond of lately - "the purple dinosaur."

"Is this your subtle way of telling me you're a pedophile?" he twists his comforter in his hands before patting it down and using his abdominal muscles to pull him upright.

  
"Hold on," he mumbles, vague sounds of rustling and a small click is all Louis hears for a short length of time as he fusses mindlessly with his hair and tries to mentally pick out his outfit for tonight. "Check your phone," Harry tells him as soon as he gets back on the line.

  
"Bossy," he groans before pulling the phone away from his ear and opening the messaging application. There was a message from Harry, and he snorts before opening it. It's probably another bloody picture of his fucking cat.

  
He rubs his eyes before taking in the blurry picture. Instead of the usual tan colored cat, there was a lad, -- a universally fit lad. Louis bites his lip as he studies the picture and the long limbs that crowded together at weird angles to where the camera could show that he didn't appear to have an inch of fat anywhere, the deep dimple creviced into his left cheek, the widely blown green eyes that are reminiscent of breathtaking auroras, and the brown waves that cascades down to his broad shoulders.

"You're a bloody liar," he says as soon as he puts the phone back up to his ear.

  
"What?" Harry exhales between breathy laughs.

  
"You look nothing like a fucking dinosaur."

  
"Yes, I might've lied about that. Sorry."

  
"You're actually fit," Louis whines into the phone.

  
"I -"

  
"No," he groans. "I was so sure that you were either a spotty teenager with his hand stuffed down his pants permanently or a pedophilic sixty year old."

  
"Is this your way of telling me that you are one of those things?" Harry's voice was tentative, but still taunting.

  
"No," he laughs airily, forcing himself to his feet and shoving open up the dresser drawer where he keeps his fresh pants. "I just so happen to be a mixture of both."

  
☏

  
"Liam is taking me on a proper date," he tells Harry as he stares at the skinnies that he bribed Niall into washing for him.

  
"Oh," Harry's voice perks up through the speaker. "The fireman?"

  
"Yeah, him." he huffs and runs his hand along his jaw. "He's very kind, maybe I should shave for him?"

  
"I think that's the dumbest thing you've said yet."

"Fuck you." He was smiling fondly as he said it, whatever.

  
"Are you gonna climb him like a ladder?" Harry asks, Louis forces himself to laugh even though it's not that funny.

  
The doorbell rings and Louis drops his shirt that he was about to slide over his chest.

  
"Shit, he's one of those people that arrive early. Fuck. Wish me luck," he mumbles before pacing back to his bed to grab his phone.

  
"Don't forget to wrap the sau -"

Louis hangs up and hurriedly puts on his clothes before fruitlessly trying to adjust his fringe, he can do this.

  
☏

  
"I was a right mess when Niall showed up wielding a derby trophy and screeching about how he's not afraid to 'kill a cunt'." He says into the phone, a happy feeling of accomplishment bursts through his chest when he hears Harry's seal-laugh boom into the receiver accompanied by the vague sound of him slapping his thighs as he does.

  
"Hey Lou," Harry mumbles later on as Louis is tapping away at his laptop, trying to finish his paper for Sociology. "You know, I don't even know what you look like."

"Barney," Louis quips curtly, Harry laughs.

His heart may or may not be soaring.

"The dinosaur?"

"No, Stinson."

"Lou.." Harry drawls slowly, and he can practically envision him pouting. Louis sighs before sending a quick picture of himself.

Harry never talks about the picture, he tries not to let that bruise his ego too badly.

Right when they were about to hang up for the night (Louis really needs to focus on his paper, it's due tomorrow morning) Harry clears his throat hesitantly before saying, "Hey Lou, you're kind of beautiful." And then he hangs up.

  
☏

  
"Liam and I are, like, a proper thing now." He confesses lowly into the phone as he tries to light a candle with one hand.

  
"Like.. A steady, functioning thing?" Harry's voice is lower than usual today, he doesn't ask about it, though. He doesn't want to breach a boundary or anything.

"Yeah, he asked me last night after the film he took me to."

"Oh."

"Yep. He's.. great."

It's awkward, telling Harry this. And it shouldn't be awkward, because nothing is ever weird with Harry. They've even chatted about the pros and cons of watersports, for gods sakes.

"Louis, can you, like, promise me one thing?"

"Sure."

"He treats you right, right?"

Louis nodded, "Yeah, he's a fireman, f'course he does."

"No, like, I mean he cares and stuff for you, right? Like, if challenged, he would totally go into a dual over you."

"A dual, really?"

"Louis."

"Fine, I'll ask him about his knightship next time I see him," he jokes lightly. There's an awkward silence on the other end of the line. "In all seriousness, though, Liam truly does seem to care. I'm happy."

  
"Good," Harry says. "That's good."

  
"Have I ever told you about the time I skateboarded through the McDonald's drive through and got arrested?"

  
☏

  
"Louis, you mean a lot to me," Liam whispers as he cards his hands through his hair.

  
"You mean a lot to me too, Li." He whispers back, nuzzling deeper into his position on Liam's lap.

☏

  
Louis is utterly fucked.

  
His palms are sweaty, his cheeks are burning up, and his heart is racing. And he's so, so fucked.

  
☏

  
"I love you," Niall hollers after him as he shuts the door and smiles at Liam.

  
"Hey, pet." Liam smiles and presses a small kiss to his forehead.

  
"Hi," he nuzzles into the kiss, trying to clear his mind. "What's the plan for tonight?"

  
"Well, I was going to have a firework show go off and spell out 'Louis' in the sky, but ya know, fire hazards." Liam jokes. Louis forces out a laugh.

  
"Fire hazards be damned." He jokes, Liam's eyes widen before they recede back to their normal doey-like state once he realizes Louis was only joking.

  
"So, coffee?" he asks.

  
He presses his lips that were chapping rapidly from the frigid air against Liam's stubbly jaw and then pulls away, nodding along and grabbing his hand to lead them out of the building.

☏

He knew he was witnessing love at first sight as soon as it happened.

  
Liam had dropped their coffees on an unsuspecting bloke's table, spilling it all over the mans tablet where he was scribbling figures that closely resembled superheroes.

  
"I'm so sorry," Liam had apologized profusely, waving for Louis to grab some napkins, he did, and when he came back the bloke was still staring stonily at his tablet.

  
He placed the napkins on the ravenet's tablet and Liam instantly began blotting at the sizzling mechanical device, he was very near crying, Louis was helpless.

"It's fine," the man finally spoke up and grabbed a napkin to help clean it off. "I was actually just about to start all over anyways."

  
"You shouldn't have been," Liam said to the man quickly, "It was actually really good, looked like it was straight from a high class comic. I was staring at it, honestly, and I guess I subconsciously started moving towards it. Sorry."

  
The man laughed, "Wow, thanks, M'Zayn." He held out his hand to Liam.

  
"Liam," his cheeks were still painted an endearing shade of pink.

  
Louis glances around the coffee shop, feeling like he was disturbing a private moment. The place smelled of coffee beans and expensive cologne. There were people barking their orders at baristas and baristas joking with eachother by the espresso machines.

  
He shifts uncomfortably on his feet, his only thoughts being: I don't belong here. He knew that if Liam would've dropped coffee on something of obvious great importance to him upon their first meeting, he would've given him absolute hell for it. But this man that had the looks of a god and a smile so soft kittens would want to curl up against it. He holds his composure and acts nicely and Liam looks absolutely taken.

He digs around in his pocket bringing out his phone and typing out, 'I had a dream about you last night.' to Harry.

  
His phone buzzes immediately, 'Pervert,' it reads.

  
'It wasn't like that.. at all.' he replied.

'Oh?'

'Like, I dreamt that it was just me and you, under the stars, holding hands, the whole shebang.'

  
'Oh.'

  
'It scared the fuck outta me, to be honest.'

  
"Oh," Liam tugs on his arm. "This is Louis," he says. "My boyfriend." He adds as an afterthought.

  
He waves courteously and the lad starts a conversation about the band that Louis' promoting on his shirt.

  
As he and Liam walk away, hand in hand, awkward silence enveloping them, his phone rings.

  
He takes it out with his free hand and unlocks it slowly.

"Who're you texting?"

  
He read the message, 'I'm not scared of those kind of thoughts.. with you.. I mean. Yeah.'

  
His heart swells hopefully.

  
"Oh," Louis says to Liam, "No one."

  
Liar.

  
☏

  
They meet Zayn again at a tattoo shop, where he is getting a tattoo of a woman removed.

  
"It's like closure," Zayn had said after he explained the tattoo was a portrait of his ex.

Louis doesn't understand, Liam did.

  
☏

  
"His name is Zayn and he's everything I'm not," Louis inhales into the phone quickly.

  
"Who? Who's Zayn?" Harry asks frantically.

  
"The bloke that Liam is painfully in love with."

"What? Liam left you? Why?"

"Liam," - he cards a hand through his hair and folds in on himself under his comforter - "Liam hasn't left me. He wants to, though. He just doesn't know how."

"But -"

"I can tell, alright? Him and Zayn are obviously meant for each other. They're perfect for each other, even. Liam is just too nice to leave me in the dust."

"That's because you don't deserve to be left in the dust."

"Don't,"

"Don't?" Harry scoffs. "Don't what, Louis? Care? Do you not want me to care? Because I wish I didn't."

  
"We've discussed this," Louis whispers.

  
And they had.

  
They talked about it the day after Louis's dream.

  
"Do you want me, Lou?" Harry had said quietly, vulnerably.

  
"I have Liam."

  
"You said you dreamt of me though." Harry had said, his voice was cracking.

"I dreamt of the idea of you, I don't really know you, Haz."

"That's bullshit."

"Listen -"

"No, Louis," - Harry sucked in a deep breath - "You listen, I've told you everything about me. Everything that I hate and love about myself. Don't you dare say you don't know me. Don't you dare say you only know the idea of me."

"We've never met in person," he had said.

"That doesn't mean I haven't laid myself out on the line for you," he pointed out.

His stomach felt like someone was twisting it like how you would wring out a wet towel.

"I have Liam," Louis repeated.

"You're so difficult, Louis." Harry spat now.

He started to cry at that point.

"M'not difficult, I'm being rational."

"No! You are denying yourself happiness just as much as Liam is denying himself happiness by leaving you to be with Zayn."

"How can you be so sure about all of this?"

"Fuck you," Harry spat. The line had went dead.

Nothing has felt the same since that conversation.

☏

  
Liam breaks up with him over a pint of ice cream and a marathon of American eighty's movies. He wishes he could say that he didn't cry into Niall's shoulder that night.

  
But he kind of doesn't want to lie anymore.

  
☏

He sees his curls first.

  
He spots them hovering over the the shelf that stood between two aisles in Tesco's. He immediately knew it was him. He doesn't know how, he just did.

Louis doesn't know why he crouched under the shelf and hid from him, but he did.

  
☏

  
He was in Niall's music course, he plays the drums.

Louis had seen him with a headband pushing back his sweaty curls and a bottle of water pressed to his lips after a showcase, he cowered in the corner and waited until Harry left to go latch himself over Niall's back and screech out a congratulations on how he absolutely killed it out there.

☏

  
The first time Harry saw him, he was buying peanut butter. Harry was holding a jar of jam.

  
He acted like it didn't absolutely shatter his heart when Harry's dropped the glass jar to the ground and took off in the other direction, leaving him alone with broken glass and jam spots on his new jeans.

☏

  
It was midnight when Harry called, he answered without hesitation because he's been waiting. He's been waiting for months for this moment.

  
"You didn't tell me," Harry gulps in some air, then chokes on it weakly. He's drunk. "You didn't tell me you lived in London."

  
Harry hangs up before he could get a word in.

  
☏

Louis didn't want Harry to run away anymore, even though he probably deserves it.

"Harry!" he yells as he pushes his skateboard to follow the jogging man, he has his headphones in.

Harry doesn't bother to look back, he huffs before making himself glide alongside Harry and then carefully pulls an earbud out from under Harry's mass of curls that pokes out from his headband.

  
Harry's eyes widen comically and he stumbles and falls, Louis stops his skateboard from moving further and kneels to look at Harry, who is panting loudly and holding his scraped knee to his chest.

  
"What the fuck, Lou?" he huffs.

  
"Hi," he says meekly, he looks down at his shoes. They were scuffed badly. He doesn't really care.

  
"Do you always do that?"

  
He smiles wanly, "Only when I'm desperate."

"Right, yeah." Harry nods. "I should go,"

  
Louis knows it's dumb and really childish, but he steals Harry's phone from where it's poking out of his waistband and grips to it tightly.

  
"Don't go," he whispers.

  
"Louis," Harry sighs.

  
"No, I just want you to listen."

  
"Okay," Harry wipes at his brow that has sweat coming off slowly from it. Louis gulps.

  
"I've messed it all up, alright, but I miss you."

Harry shakes his head, "You have Liam."

"No, he left."

"So I'm a rebound?"

"No," Louis huffs, kicking his skateboard to where it rests in his free hand. "No, you were always.. always something. Something that I didn't want to lose."

"Don't be so cliche about it."

"Haz -"

"Give me my phone, I don't want to be here."

"I care about you."

"And sadly, I care about you, too. But I want to stop. Give me my phone."

The wind is rushing in his ears, he doesn't want to screw this up. He really, really doesn't. Not with Harry. Not with silly, sweet, endearing, perfect, goofy, fit Harry.

"Please, Haz, please." He takes a step towards Harry and holds his hand out to help Harry stand up.

"Fine," Harry mumbles. He doesn't move away from Louis, they're practically breathing onto each others mouths. It feels right.

  
"Listen, I fucked up. I fucked up badly and I'm pretty sure I care about you. Well, the you that I know, maybe it's the real you, maybe it's the idea of you. I don't care. I need you, and you are not my second choice. I don't want to deny myself happiness or whatever you said that night, you make me happy. You make me strong." he rambles quickly.

  
Harry stares at him, his eyes an innocent sea glass green and his lips pouty and pink. "Good, great. I want to be with you. Just don't run away."

  
Harry leans in and presses his mouth to his own. His toes twitches at the feeling of Harry melding against him, large hands splaying over his hips and fine whiskers on his chin prickling softly against his own, his nerves are practically howling and buzzing and jumping, but his heart is thudding constantly, making him feel like he is in flight but also grounded in the best possible way.

  
He pulls away, "I won't run away, I'm laid out on the line just like how you were for me. Are you sure you want this?"

Harry nods, a curl hits against his cheek, "Yes, God, Yes. Just, let us be, Lou. I've wanted this from the start."

  
They were kissing again, Harry was smiling into the kiss and he's pretty sure he was, too.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr: because--itrhymes 
> 
> My wattpad: tommoandbambi
> 
> Kudos is appreciated ! xx


End file.
